Out
by schim
Summary: John decides to come out of the closet.


**Notes:**

Before anyone goes on a rampage about "I'm not a homosexual", please realize this is just a fanfic. I thought the idea was cute and sweet. And this is FANfiction, meaning it is NOT canon. So please be respectful. If you don't agree/like it, just skip over it.

Thank you.

* * *

John's heart was already pounding.

He sat at the kitchen table, hands folded in front of him like he was a professional businessman waiting for a client. On the wall, the clock ticked. Five more minutes. Seconds fell away, carrying John towards the rest of his life. Five more minutes. He took a breath, it warbled and shook as it tripped over itself.

John took his eyes off the clock to spare himself the agony.

Five seconds passed.

_Fifteen_.

The clock ticked and John counted each second. _Thirty five_. A dull ache settled at the bottom of his stomach. _Forty two_.

A car pulled into the driveway. John froze. His breath caught between gaping lips and buckteeth. _Fifty three_. Keys jingled in the front door, there was whistling, a shuffle of bags. John slid his eyes towards the kitchen doorway and swallowed. His throat was dry.

John found himself staring at the clock again. Four minutes early. His palms started to sweat, he kept his hands locked to keep them still. The rest of his body shook in little tremors. His stomach twisted and he took a breath to relieve the tightness that gripped his entire body.

He had waited a long time for this.

Today was the day.

No more backing out. No more shying away. No more swallowing his words to fester and rot inside of him. He spent night after night rehearsing over what to say, repeating his lines to his friends only to change his mind and start over.

Everything had to be perfect.

He was sixteen years old and nothing had ever felt so important.

And nothing had ever felt so terrifying.

John's father stepped in the doorway, carrying a multitude of grocery bags with ease. He smiled at John and the boy returned it, though a pang in his heart questioned how long it would stay there.

"Afternoon, son." Mr. Egbert set the bags on the counter and started to sort them.

It took everything he had not to stutter. "Hi dad."

"You're home early." Mr. Egbert opened the fridge and put the food away.

"Yea," John mumbled.

His thoughts went a mile a minute. _I need to talk to you_. No. _There's something I thought you should probably know_. No. _Dad, would you still love me even if I was the biggest disappoint of your life?_ No. He started to shake again.

Mr. Egbert closed the fridge and John jumped.

"Everything okay, son?" Mr. Egbert spoke slowly.

A nervous heat hit John, emanating from his churning stomach.

"Y-Yea." The stutter broke free.

"Mm." Mr. Egbert watched him a moment. The clock ticked a few times before he turned to open a cabinet. "Well, as long as everything is alright."

"What if." John coughed. His throat felt like sand. "What if everything isn't?"

Mr. Egbert looked over as he set a mug down on the counter. "'What if' is a powerful thing, son. If you let it be."

"I." John stared hard at his hands. They were sticky with sweat. "I've been meaning to talk to you. About stuff."

"You know I'm always here to listen, son." John winced at that and Mr. Egbert smiled. "What sort of stuff'? Someone breaking your heart at school?"

John winced again. He felt like throwing up.

"No. Dad. I."

John took a deep breath as he raised his eyes to meet his father's from across the room. His heart pounded like an animal in a cage three sizes too small. Mr. Egbert wore that same calm loving smile he always did whenever he looked at his son. It was full of fatherly love and pride.

And John was going to shatter all that.

"Dad. I'm."

It was now or never. Now or never. He was tired of the sleepless nights spent tossing and turning in worry. He was tired of the fear and the cowering away from the world, like he was some sort of abomination. He was tired of feeling like he had to walk on egg shells just for being himself.

He was tired.

And so very afraid.

It was now or never.

"Dad. I'm gay."

Silence followed. The clock ticked like the slow drums of fate, pounding out the tune of judgment. Tears welled up in the corner of John's eyes. His father's expression didn't change. John swallowed and looked down.

"Is that so?" Mr. Egbert finally spoke as he opened the fridge and poured something into the mug.

"I'm sorry, Dad." John bit his lip, his breath caught on a sniffle. "I'm so sorry."

Mr. Egbert didn't answer. He pulled the top off a jar on the countertop and grabbed a handful of crinkling wrappers. John kept his eyes down on his hands, which held each other so tight that his fingertips ached. His father took a seat beside him and set the mug down in front of John.

John glanced up to see Slimer's faded, grinning face. It was his old Ghostbusters mug. The one that for as long as he could remember, his father brought with water when he said goodnight. The one he drank soup out of every time he was sick. The one that was filled with hot chocolate each winter. It was the mug that, like his father, had always been there.

It was full of apple juice.

John turned to look at his father and he set down a handful of Gusher packets.

Mr. Egbert smiled.

"But, dad." John looked down at the offerings like he wasn't worthy. Not worthy of snacks, not worthy of his father's love. "Aren't you-."

"Son." Mr. Egbert put a gentle hand on John's shoulder. "When I say I love you, I mean it. Nothing's going to change that. Nothing you do. Nothing you say. Nothing you grow to be is _ever_ going to change that."

"But." John worried his fingers. He really wanted that apple juice, but kept his hands where they were. "You're always wanting me to be strong and manly and. I don't want to disappoint you."

"You don't disappoint me, son." Mr. Egbert rubbed John's back, just like he did whenever John used to home crying with scraped knees or was stuck at home with a cough. "You are, and always will be, my son. And just because you like someone like you doesn't make you any less of a man." His smile lit with a soft laugh. "Why that just makes things twice as manly."

John cracked a small smile. "So it's okay?"

"Yes, John." Mr. Egbert pat his back before reaching over to open a Gushers packet. "It's okay. Everything's okay, son."

John sniffled and lifted his glasses to wipe his eyes on his sleeve. He smiled as his heart beat easy for the first time in a long time. He reached for the apple juice, taking a much needed drink. It tasted perfect.

"And son?" Mr. Egbert set the open packet by John's hand. John looked up, eyes glossy with tears. "I'm proud of you. It takes a lot to do what you did, and for that, I'm proud."

John bit his lip and tears fell. He sniffled again and fell forward, pulling his father into a hug. Mr. Egbert pat John's back as the boy lost control of shuddering sobs into his father's shoulder.

"I love you, son."

"I love you too, dad." John sniffled into his father's shirt. He smelled like cologne and home.


End file.
